


knowing you with all my senses

by abardwithapen



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I don't even know how to tag, Villanelle will be the target of several descriptive words, mostly about Eve's senses and feelings, this is my first ever fic so don't expect to much, very Eve centric, will be editing for sure, will probably mention stuff about blood and death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25873447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abardwithapen/pseuds/abardwithapen
Summary: Eve has always been fascinated by and obsessed with female assassins, but this one is different, she just doesn't know why yet, but she's about to engage all of her senses on her journey to know more about the target of her obsession.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Kudos: 6





	knowing you with all my senses

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is my first fic ever, and sadly I don't know yet where am I going with it, but i've been meaning to get back to writing stories for ages so I thought what the hell, why not?  
> also english is not my first language, portuguese is, so pardon me for my grammar of badly worded phrases, I will try to get better.

Eve’s interest in female assassins and how or why they did what they did always bordered on obsession. She could admit that to herself if no one else. But this last one that she’s been ‘stalking’ was different. Eve couldn’t say why exactly that was. She just had a feeling.

One day, when Eve was just adding to her files of murders that no one else seemed to care to look too much into, she started to notice some kind of pattern, not a really discernible one like some kind of signature, but a certain characterization, like staged scenes, a composition to the picture, a flair, just... something. And she just knew that those patterns were made by the same person. The same woman.

And with this new discovery that she really could not take anywhere, Eve would just take any opportunities in which she was alone, or away from Bill and Elena, to study the kills that she could identify were from the same woman. It wasn't always easy, and she was sure that she'd missed many, but as time passed it became easier. The woman doing those kills seemed to be getting more and more confident in what she did, and thus more showy.

What Eve really liked to do was try and imagine what must this woman be like and what did she look like, just to pass the time, or when she was really bored, which lately had been almost all the time.

Was she tall? Of average height or short? Was she someone of average looks, that could easily blend in? Or just someone really good at adapting to all situations and places? Why did she do it? Why those people? Did she work for anyone or did she act independently? Those were the basic questions.

And then her imagination would take her to more and more personal details of the killer, like... Did she like doing it? What did it feel like when she did it? Did she have any family? If so, did they know or did she hide what she did? How did she hide it? And so on. And so forth.

Eve’s imagination could take her really far, and sometimes to the point of distraction, to a level that even Bill, her very mild management and hands-off boss, had to reprimand her. But not too much, as he was more her friend than her boss really. And also, she could always count on Elena to cover her behind when needed, in the condition that Eve paid for the first rounds at the pub.

At work Eve’s wonderings of mind never really got her in trouble, except with Frank, but he was just an arsehole that nobody at the office really listened too, and Bill always saved her. At home, it was another game altogether, because Eve really got bored at home, but she could not just let it show to her husband, Niko, whose only fault was being too nice and predictable.

So it was best to confine the imagining of her newest obsession confined to working hours. Eve was competent even if she was a mess, she wouldn't be working at MI5 if she didn’t know what she was doing. But the gathering of information and diplomatic protection of key witnesses and visitors of the UK got boring after years and years of doing the same things, and so she imagined.

And in imagining and theorising she felt free. Free of the job, free of the marriage that was everything that a marriage should be, but didn’t excite her anymore, and even free of herself, free of the confines that her life and education and work with the law put on her. With just imagining what this killer woman was like, Eve sometimes even felt alive.  
.  
.  
.  
Eve’s imagination could not prepare her for what she was about to get herself in to on a fine Saturday morning, where, still hungover from Bill’s impromptu birthday party and late for a meeting with Frank and Carolyn Martens from MI6’s Russia Desk, she was tasked with the protection of one witness named Kasia Molkovska.

**Author's Note:**

> so, what do ya think? spare me a word if you can, and again, sorry for any mistakes, with the english or whatever.
> 
> I'm at @abardwithapen on Twitter and mirandapriestlysbitch on Tumblr.


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